


Nepenthe

by MintIceTea



Series: Rumbelle Tumblr Events [11]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Screenplay (TV 1986)
Genre: Anyelle, F/M, Finfolk AU, May Day Menagerie, Nostelle, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 07:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14492175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintIceTea/pseuds/MintIceTea
Summary: Nosty has been running and hiding for so long. But something is calling him from across the waters, back to his island. And he can't run anymore, not when his past is coming to get him from the bottom of the sea.Finman!Nosty for May Day Menagerie '18.





	1. Mistpouffer (n.) a mysterious sound heard over the ocean in quiet, foggy weather.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cannibalisticshadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannibalisticshadows/gifts).



> Alright! This is my May Day gift for Cannibalisticshadows. I hope you enjoy it, darling! I was so happy to get to write Nostelle and even with all the other ideas I was playing around with I think finman!Nosty is my favorite.

It’s creeping well past the midnight hour when he hears it. At first, it’s indistinguishable from the all the other noise ringing in the pub, causing his head to spin. The fogginess of the alcohol had finally set in after hours of downing pint after pint, the bartender finally taking pity on him and adding in something a bit more… _potent_ in his drink. As it was, Nosty was well on his way to beautiful oblivion when the distinct sound of footsteps rang in his skull.

He lolls his head to the left, hoping against hope that someone would actually be approaching him where he slouched against the wall.

No one was. No newcomers in the pub this late at night, everyone here had been for hours, and they all remain were they have been, drinks in hand.

Which only leaves Nosty with one explanation for the sound.

He curses as he sits up, nearly upsetting the bloke in the chair beside him.

“Ey, mate, watch it!” The man slurs, shoving at Nosty’s shoulder in annoyance.

Before he can catch himself, Nosty hisses in response to the unexpected touch, but the man slumps back down, too drunk to notice the inhuman sound coming from his companion’s mouth.

The bartender notices though, and her eyes flash warningly. Nosty levels her with a similar glare. He catches his reflection in the glass behind the bar. His scowl travels from the now-cowering bartender to his face – more unsettling than his gaunt and sharp face, was the way his hair has begun to float in his angers, drifting just above his shoulders like kelp in the waves, writing in the shadows seeming to leak from his form.

He lets out a shaky angry sigh, and they fall back down, brushing against his jacket, shadows melting back into the ground beside his feet.

“What’s got you so angry?” The bartender asks, her fangs still extended, attempting bravery. “You gotta pay your tab no matter your attitude.”

Nosty stalks closer, grabbing a nearly empty bottle from the counter, she flinches back from him and he grins, darkly.

“Remember the wanker who tried ta stake you last week, batsy?” He purrs, leaning over the bar towards her. Her mouth hardens into a tight line. “Yeah? How about we call it even, then, yeah?” He doesn’t give her time to respond, shoving the bottle of whiskey into his jacket pocket. She swears after him but lets him leave without further incident.

She’s one of the few who hadn’t put up a fight when Nosty had come to town, and for that he let her stay. The only other immortal in this run-down, churchless, seaside village. He had worked to make this small human-infested hub _safe_ for him, and nearly a year it had been perfect. Fishermen coming through, local factory workers, the beaten-down families of both – all made for a perfect mix of disillusioned humanity for Nosty to hide himself in.

But it seems as if he has been found.

The sound of footsteps in his skull had stopped, but the feeling remained – a horrible, invasive feeling creeping down from his skull to between his shoulder blades, itching like someone was holding a knife to his back. He had gotten used to the minor itch - the feeling of ships passing through his waters, but this. This was someone on his land, his private sanctuary. He had placed so many spells and wards on the land, that it was nearly impossible to stumble across it by accident.

Which means that they’ve found him.

Nosty grinds his teeth as he stalks down the empty street. If they were going to drag him back, he’d go kicking and screaming. It was better back in the days before they forfeited the islands to the humans. Nosty was a creature of the sea yes, but he couldn’t stand having limitations placed on him, and that’s all they wanted to do in the city. Cage him, chain him, force him back into the old ways, far from the earth and sky until his brain would melt and bleed out his ears.

His boat was moored where he left it, and he steps onto the creaking planks, lifting the oar by habit only. It only takes dipping the oar into the water and he is halfway to the island. He pauses briefly before the second stroke that would bring him home. He sighs, clouds forming on his breath urging them to grow into a storm. By the time his booted feet touch down on the rocky shore he’s flanked by rolling waves and biting winds.

“Alright, ye bastards!” Nosty ensures his voice is carried by the wind and punctuated by thunder. A very intimidated touch, he’s found. “Can’t fucking meet me on the shore, like proper guests, can ye?” He waits a beat, hoping they’d show themselves while he’s still near his boat. There weren’t any other rowboats on the shore, which means they probably planned to bring him straight down to the city. “Fine! I’ll come to you!”

He can tell where the presence has settled, unnervingly in one of the inner caves of the island. The one that nearly floods with sea water at high tide – with steep natural steps that make it almost impossible to climb down into safely.

The one where he _sleeps_. His safe place. And if they thought they’d have better luck approaching him there they were wrong. Nosty is angry, and the lighting crackling in the sky around him echoes his rage as he stomps down the steps, unafraid of slipping on the stones, despite the human footwear he insisted on.

“What kinda manners are these, lads?” He growls as he descends, back-lit by lightning. “Playing hide ’n’ seek like wee fry in the kelp?”

The tide has nearly filled the cavern, leaving only a small shelf of rock above the water. But he looks there last, instead glancing over the dark waves in search for the tell-tale seaweed-esque shadows of one of his brethren, finding nothing.

It isn’t until he finally glances towards the shelf that he sees the humanoid form, pale skin obvious in the dark of the cave. He knows instantly that this invader isn’t one of the sea folk. They turn in his direction, but their eyes don’t glow in the darkness, they’ve pulled their limbs from the water’s reach – though one of their legs lays oddly on the rock.

Nosty scowls, though he is slightly relived. It should’ve been difficult for any sea dweller to enter his domain, and impossible for humans.

There was something odd about this visitor, but at least they weren’t here to drag him back to Finfolkaheem. He shrugs off his jacket, tossing up the stairs out of reach of the water. A bit of magic lets him simply step out of his shoes without having to mess with the laces, and he walks into the water. The stairs guiding him to the bottom of the cave where the water is high above his head. He walks along the bottom, feeling his scales adjust to being beneath the waves – shifting and darkening, less of the soft, flesh-like tone they appear when he’s surface side.

By the time he reaches the shelf where the intruder waits, the scales have covered his entire body in a greenish-brown that would make it difficult to spot him in the dark water even if his visitor had the ability to see in the dark.

Always a showman, he hides his presence completely until he surfaces right before the intruder. His hair spread out across the surface of the water, the dreadlocks twisting like tentacles. His eyes glowed, and with a wicked sharp-toothed grin he greeted them.

“Boo.”

The figure startles, not having seen him approach. This close Nosty can tell that the intruder is human, female – small and dirty, but fully grown. Even in the dark of the cave he can see that her eyes, though wide and fearful, were the bright blue of a summer sea.

Her mouth opens and closes, gulping for a moment. But she doesn’t scream, she leans forwards, peering at him through the darkness. Finally saying, with a touch of relief:

“Nosty, I found you.”


	2. Drapetomania (n.) an overwhelming urge to run away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, about Nosty's visual accent... honestly I was struggling with it. Sometimes it looked okay and sometimes it didn't. So please give me some leeway with it. lolol. (￣ー￣；

“Nosty, I found you.”

He recoils at Belle’s relieved exhale, rising up in the water so it barely reaches his shoulders. Other than his glowing eyes she can only just make out his familiar silhouette.

“Belle? What tae fuck are you doing here?”

She smiles back at him shakily, the adrenaline in her veins still making her tremble. Her injured leg had trapped her in this cave as the water rose higher and higher, and the sudden thunderstorm and echoing shouting had done nothing but make her shake. It wasn’t until the owner of the voice entered the cave that she recognized it as Nosty. It barely eased her nerves, but the fear had begun to fade back into anxiety.

“I was looking for you.” She says, meaning to lean forward and move closer to him, but the sharp pain in her leg stills her.

“The fuck for?” He comes closer until his hands rest on the edge of the rock, webbed fingers still just beneath the water. “Don’t you have a fuckin’ fiancée to entertain?”

“He’s not my fiancée.”

“Oh, husband, then? I suppose it has been a few years.” His laugh was forced, echoing in the cave. But, to Belle’s relief, he seems to have no intention of drawing away from her any more.

“He married someone else,” she inches forward. “I tried to tell you before you disappeared. I didn’t agree to that engagement.”

“’Best match you were gonna get’,” he quotes her father’s words back at her, remembering clear as day when she told him of her betrothal.

She frowns at him. “Nosty… I turned him down, in front of the entire village. I didn’t want him, I wanted you.”

“’Wanted’,” he repeats back, bitterly. He begins to draw back, sinking back down into the water’s comfortingly cool embrace. “Ye don’t know enough about me to know what you want.” He gives himself a shake. “Well, hen, once the tide goes out you can be on your merry way. Thanks for dropping by.”

“Nosty, wait!” She lurches forward, reaching for him. He pauses, only his eyes above the water. “I’ll go, but my leg.” She gestures to her injured leg. “I can’t—”

He makes an annoyed sound, it would’ve been a huff if he was above water. Instead it came across as a flurry of angry bubbles and Belle had to bite back a giggle. His scowl deepens, but he rises and approaches her once more. He walks onto the shelf she’s sitting on, water cascading off his body and showering Belle with the drops.

She couldn’t mind less, too distracted by seeing him, like this, all scales and glowing eyes and dripping, seaweed hair. He had never shown her his true face, or even this in-between form, almost human but not quite.

He’s beautiful.

“Dodged a bullet, don’t ya think?” He hisses, mistaking her stare for something far less flattering. “Thought you wanted this – didn’t know you were lusting for a monster.”

“Nosty, I—” she cuts herself off with a surprised cry. He scoops her up, one arm behind her back and one beneath her knees. It hurts her leg, hanging like this, but she wraps her arms around his neck. The scales across his shoulders surprisingly warm against her skin.

He walks towards the water, but instead of stepping back down beneath the surface – he exhales, deeply and with intent, and walks straight across the surface. Belle twists, trying to look down at his feet, but he holds her tight.

“If you rather swim, I’ll let you.”

“No.” She clings tighter on the off chance he’d drop her in the water. It wouldn’t be the first time he had dunked her for a laugh. He has to stoop slightly as he steps off the surface of the water and onto the steps at the mouth of the cave.

Belle blinks as they step out into the night. The air is cool, but not as chilly as Belle would expect. She’s not actually sure what time it is, but as Nosty walks onto the beach, she makes out a faint glow on the horizon.

“What happened to the storm?” The seas had been calm, though foggy when she had arrived on the island, but the thunderstorm that had suddenly appeared was fierce and she can’t imagine it had dissipated so quickly by natural forces.

“Sent it awa’.” He is curt, laying her down on the beach, with what she realizes is his leather jacket between her and the rocky sand. “You can’t sail in a storm. Where did you hide your boat?”

“Didn’t bring a boat.”

“I refuse to believe you fuckin’ swam here.” He scowls, dropping down to sit next to her on the beach. A quick shimmer of _something_ flickers from his fingertips and the soaked kilt across his knees dries instantly. Belle smiles – no matter that his hair was still wet, or that his scaly skin still glittered with water droplets, wet wool would not be tolerated.

Her heart clenches at that familiarity.

“Nosty?” He doesn’t look at her, but she reaches out to touch his elbow. He twitches beneath her touch. “Nosty, do you remember what I said before you disappeared?”

There was a long pause, Belle can barely hear the waves over her pounding heartbeat. Finally, he answers, on a harsh exhale. “Aye.”

“I said I loved you.” She wishes he would look at her. “And I meant it. I still do.” He tries to pull away but she grips his arm tighter. “Nosty, I love you.”

Nosty sighs, finally, _finally_ , looking at her with a strange expression crossing over his face. He presses two fingers between her eyes, and she feels a fog begin to swirl in her brain.

“Go to sleep, Bluebell.” His voice is far softer than it has been all day, and she struggles to stay awake. Wanting to talk to _this_ Nosty – the one she remembered. The one who was rough, and wild, but always gentle and kind to her.

Just before she succumbs she manages to say, just legible though slurred with sleep. “Don’t leave.”

Her eyes close before she can say _again_.


	3. Philophobia (n.) fear of being in, or falling in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter serving as a bridge and bit of Nosty POV.

Her eyes flutter shut, and the pout fades from her lips as she slips into sleep. He sits back and scrubs at his face, his scales fade as he dries off. The morning sun is just now beginning to creep up over the horizon, and he glares at it, feeling personally offended about how familiar it all seems. Sitting on a beach at sunrise, Belle sleeping beside him. The only thing missing was an abandoned book laying across her chest.

_Don’t leave._

He reaches for the near empty bottle of whiskey he had stolen earlier. He had dumped it from his jacket when he spread it out for Belle to lay on. He judges the amount left and throws it back. When the bottle’s empty he props it in the sand beside Belle’s injured leg. The bruising is an unsettling purple shade, and her knee is swollen. Nosty gets to work. Healing magic isn’t something that comes easily to him. When he tends to his own cuts and scrapes, he always wonders if he would just be better rubbing salt into his wounds.

But for Belle he sighs. He presses his hands together and begins to mutter the words for a healing spell. Well, not so much healing as the removal of pain. He’d have to explain that to her when she’s conscious again.

He scowls as he sends the flickering magic towards her injuries. It’s not that he hasn’t missed her, _because gods, he has_. Every day for year he felt her absence like a missing lung. (And he’s unfortunately familiar with that feeling. He’s been on the wrong side of a couple of curses.)

She let out a whimper in her sleep, and he glances over, seeing it’s just the magic at work. Sparkles flitting like minnows about her skin. He guides the magic into the bottle once it is finished absorbing her pain, it’s no longer good for healing, but he can always use a little pain.

Sometimes it’s all that will distract him from his thoughts. He’s tempted to reach for it now. But if when Belle wakes she sees him in pain she would never leave. She’s far too kind to leave him suffering.

Though he certainly deserves it.

Nosty had promised himself, when he first begin to live amongst humans, that he wouldn’t linger, wouldn’t become attached. And for a long while it worked. He flitted between coastal towns, drinking and gambling, and selling whatever he could get his hands on. Some items magical in nature, some not, and very few of them legal.

(Human prisons are almost as bad as fae prisons, in Nosty’s opinion.)

Even with that experience in lockup, Nosty far preferred living above the water than below. If he could stomach being away from the sea – he could travel inland, they would never catch him there.

But he’s a coward. His bravery and madness a mask. He glances towards Belle. A mask that she had nearly removed as soon as she met him.

She had seen through him the first time he stepped foot in her seaside town. Inadvertently seducing him with her kindness and books and teasing laughs. It felt like she had caught him in a net, and for once he doesn’t have the urge to trash and escape.

Until now.

He presses the heels of his hands hard into his eyes. The feeling just reminds him of how close he had come to capturing _her_ instead. Centuries of magical tradition had evolved and burned like instinct. Telling him to trap her, bewitch her, and lock her away to be his and his alone.

There were few of his kind left. They were heavily encouraged to follow traditions, to take human spouses. The binding magic keeps them youthful, and beautiful, and powerful. But at the expense of freedom.

He couldn’t do that to Belle. Beautiful, curious Belle who dreamed of traveling the world. He wanted to believe he was above that. That he would be strong enough to let her go and make it on his own.

He hoped.

But with Belle laying here beside him. _Here_ , on his island. He had spent many lonely, drunk fantasies imagining her here. Though admittedly those took place in the cabin he built for her. The one he was too cowardly to enter. He spent his nights in the caves like the monster he was.

He huffed out a laugh.

“You should really toss this one back, Bluebell. Plenty of other fish out there.”

The waves continue to crash against the shore behind him. And resting his chin on his hand he settles in to wait for her to heal. He closes his eyes.

“Lovely hideout you have here.”

The voice sends a chill down Nosty’s spine. He doesn’t have to turn around to recognize its owner. He feels a heavy hand land on his shoulder, sealing the magic that he had subconsciously attempted to summon. He turns and looks up, seeing familiar and eyes, cold and glinting like the Baltic sea. He feels himself go numb as magic creeps down his spine from the hand on his shoulder.

“Nostroma, I found you.”


	4. Noyade (n.) an execution carried out by drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to apologize for my wayward child – the king is an OC who has nothing better to do than to fill background roles, but then he went and took over in order to monologue for most of the chapter. I left it because it clear up some plot holes I didn't know I had. (／。＼)

Belle awakes with the sun warm on her face. She stretches, arms overhead and pointing her toes. She’s surprised to find that her leg no longer hurts.

Nosty.

She sits up, maybe a little too quickly, expecting to see him nearby. She was still sitting on his jacket, and there was a whiskey bottle half-buried in the sand beside her. She pulled it out, curiously tilting it side to side. Blue and green sparkles sloshed around in the glass. When she takes the lid off, some of the glitter nips at her fingers.

“Ow!” She slaps the lid back on, and stuffs her aching fingertip into her mouth. Belle was half suspecting Nosty to laugh or scold her, probably both, as he usually did when her curiosity got her into trouble.

But it was quiet. Nothing but the sound of the waves against the shore. She stands, peering down the length of the beach in both directions for Nosty. She spies the indent of where Nosty had sat beside where she had laid on the sand.

And then she noticed the footprints.

There the ones leading from the cave of course, the mix of sand and dirt holding shape better than the ones in just the sand.

The ones coming from the waterline. One pair coming from the sea, and two leading back. Something about them concerned her. And that was before she noticed that there was an unnatural arrangement of rocks just out of reach of the tide.

She hurries around to read the word formed by the rocks.

“’Maelstrom’.” The word brings back stories told by sailors, of whirlpools that should they catch you, take you straight to the bottom of the ocean. She bites her lip, glancing back at the footprints leading to and from where she and Nosty had sat on the beach last night.

If… if Nosty had left her, running away again, then he wouldn’t have left her a note. Even one as ominous as this.

“Be brave,” Belle tells herself. Turning on her heels and rushing back towards the cave. It only takes a moment to grab the cloak from where she had stashed it the night before. And running back towards the beach, she pulls it around her shoulders as the water brushes her ankles.

The feeling of her body transforming was strange and still unnatural. But as soon as she slipped beneath the waves, she felt a little more at ease. But still, she couldn’t wait to get out of this borrowed selkie skin.

-

The whirlpool ride down is something Belle hopes to forget quickly. She rests on the ocean floor, trying to quell the nauseousness that wracks her seal form.

The borrowed skin gives Belle the ability to breathe underwater, a selkie trait not found in true seals, but it doesn’t let her understand the speech of other sea life. Which means it took her a moment for her to notice the small school of tiny fish waiting before her. She eyes them warily. But one after another they dart forward, and then turn back, swimming away before looking back at her.

As if she should follow.

Cautiously, she rises from the seabed and swims after them. The water down here is dark, barely any sunlight flickering down from above. Belle doesn’t notice the palace-like structure until they reach the rock archway that serves as an opening. She hesitates but the fish encourage her forward into a hall lit by odd bioluminescence on the wall. The further into the structure they venture the brighter it becomes.

As she is lead through a couple of twists and turns the light eventually begins to resemble daylight, even though Belle is sure they haven’t approached the surface at all.

Belle finds herself being lead by the fish towards a chamber, some sort of big open room, decorative pillars framing the circumference. The entrance is curtained off by gently swaying seaweed. Peering between the leaves, she lets out a gasp, a cloud of bubbles floating upwards. Nosty is sitting with his back against one of the pillars, legs crossed in front of him. His arms awkwardly held behind him as if they were tied. His head is down and he doesn’t notice her.

Before she can dart out to him, she feels a hand grab her tail, pulling her back. She twists, and sees a man in ornate robs, blue eyes nearly glowing against his dark skin. The fish swim up to greet him, the smallest of the school darting forward to hide in his hair. He holds a finger to his lips, before releasing her. Striding through the curtains.

He stands before Nosty, the hems of his robes fluttering in the wake of his movement.

Nosty lifts his head to glare up at him, Belle is relieved to see he is not injured besides the restraints.

“Well?” The man before him asks. “May I ask about the lovely and brave woman you’ve been hiding from me?”

“Fuck off,” Nosty hisses leaning forward so quickly he nearly loses his balance. The man catches Nosty on the shoulder, and is instantly shaken off. 

“I’’d rather not, honestly. This is far more interesting. Plus, as your king I have a right to know, don’t you think?” The man, the king apparently, squats down before Nosty and crosses his arms. “Would you like to confide in me? Tell me what you’ve been doing all these years? Or shall I take a guess?” 

Nosty bares his teeth.

“It’s not much of a guess though, I suppose. It’s obvious that you went and fell in love with her. And instead of following rues and traditions you decided to be a romantic and let her choose.” He chuckles. “But then you ran away just in case she turned you down.” The king stands and turns, making eye contact with Belle in her hiding place before turning to face Nosty again. “You are such a fool. In giving her freedom you forfeited yours.” He pauses momentarily. Tapping his chin as if he were thinking. “Not so much freedom though, was it? Constantly on the run.”

Nosty bristles, almost literally. Even from here Belle sees the scales along his bare arms shifting. She can’t take hiding any longer, not when Nosty is distressed and the king is beginning to speak of punishments. She darts out from her hiding place, moving to place herself between Nosty and the king.

“Ah, she’s protective too, how sweet,” the king drawls, absently brushing off his robe.

“Belle?”

She turns and makes what passes for a nod at Nosty, unable to speak in this form. His surprised look quickly fades into a scowl. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“And why not? If you’re not going to tell her I may as well.” The king gestures t Belle to listen. “Nostroma here took advantage of the year he was granted. Ever since we gave up Hildaland to the humans – we are no longer permitted to freely roam amongst the humans.” He sends a significant look at Nosty. “The exception being the occasional spousal hunt.”

“Shut tae fuck up,” Nosty hisses.

Ignoring him, the king continues. “Instead of returning at the end of the year, with a spouse or not, he flees and makes me track him down myself. I had given him a pardon before his sojourn on the condition that he return to pay his debt at the end of the year.” The king sighs dramatically. His eyes glinting in a way that makes Belle wary and Nosty tense. “But my sweet little Nostroma likes to flit about and sell and spell. From what I can tell, he’s gathered quite a fortune. What do you need all that silver for?”

“None of yer fuckin’ business, codarse.”

“It really is though, since you’ve not paid your tribute to Ler and Manann – or me for that matter, but –“ he waved his hand dismissively. “Call me foolish, but I’m fond of you, Nosty. Rebellious and fierce. Give me honest answers and I’ll turn the tides for you. A permanent pardon if you will.”

Nosty eyes him suspiciously, untrusting. And Belle agrees. “Why?”

“Curiosity.” The king’s eyes glowed, and his grin looked far too similar to a shark to be perfectly innocent, Belle backs away, scooting closer to Nosty. “I have two questions for you. What did you do with all your silver? And why could we not find your island?”

Nosty pauses. Sliding a glance to Belle. Seeing his mistrust, the king leans closer. “I swear upon all the sea gods that if you answer me honestly I'll let you go.”

Belle feels Nosty body go lax, not as if he was relaxed or calm. But more like he had given up. “It’s mine.”

“Of course it is I don’t want—” the king paused, his mouth froze in an _O_ of surprise. “It’s _yours_. You actually bought an island instead of creating one. Oh! You devious little seaponge! That’s brilliant.” He pulled back, laughing. “No wonder it was so difficult to find.”

“How’d ye manage tae, anyway?” Nosty asks, unable to hide the curiosity behind his scowl.

“It was a pain, honestly. Your little tattoo threw me off for the longest time.” The king tapped a finger on Nosty’s chest, where Belle remembers is his swallow tattoo. “But when your suitor entered and you didn’t give her the protection of the island’s name it left an opening. And when a selkie lends her skin it’s always an interesting incident, so I was paying attention.” He turned and grinned at Belle who felt sheepish. “So, it was pretty much luck.”

Nosty looks as though he was suffering the sudden onset of a headache, and Belle sympathized.

“Alright, Nostroma. Here’s the deal. I need your tributes for Ler and Manann, and you can keep your island. If you make up with your pretty little bride, you don’t have to pay tribute to me.” The king kneels down beside Nosty to release his bonds. As soon as he was free, Nosty yanks his arms away and stands.

“Fuck you,”

“I _do_ like you, Nostroma, but I’m not interested.” The king stands once more, making the motions of dusting himself off, grains of sand floating down to the floor, bubbles rippling upwards. “You don’t have to invite me to the wedding!”

The king heads towards the hall, smiling at Belle as he passes, the school of fish in his hair darting out and chasing the bubbles he leaves behind. “A pleasure meeting you, jellyfish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ominous chapter title was just...a red herring. 
> 
>  
> 
> I almost made it through without making fish puns.


	5. Marmoris (n.) the shining surface of the ocean

Nosty barely acknowledges Belle as they leave the palace. He feels her struggling to keep up with him, swimming as he stalks along the sea floor. He feels foolish not recognizing her. For not realizing that she wouldn’t leave him, not so soon after finding him. He somehow expected her to vanish once she realized what he was. A monster sent out to find a wife.

He turns and she’s still behind him. Her bright blue eyes familiar even in selkie skin. He motions for her to stay put as he traces patterns in the seabed around them. The bubbling swirl of water carries them off the shore of the island; from the bottom of the sea to waist deep water.

Or waist deep on him. Belle in her seal skin barely has her nose poking above the water. And he can’t hold back a bark of laughter at her offended look.

Once fully on dry land she sheds the selkie skin, folding it over her arms as he wrings his hair out.

“Are you going to send me away again?”

He glances as her, tossing the locks back over his shoulder.. “I dunnae think you’d let me even if I wanted too.”

“So you believe I’m not entranced by your siren wiles?” Her grin is teasing, and he gives her a brief cautious smile. Before schooling his face into one of offense on principle.

“I’ll have you know lass, I’m a Fin – dannae go getting me confused with those singing idiots.”

Her laugh washes away the last of his fear, he lets her come up and takes his hand. “C’mon, I’ve got something to show you.”

He walks along the shore, past the path that leads to the caves, and reaches the rocky staircase that heads deeper into the island. Halfway up the steps he glances back at her. “I can hear your questions bubbling, Bluebell.”

She laughs. “Yes, well-”

“Go ahead an’ ask them. I don’t think I’ve got much tae hide from you anymore.”

“Did you run away because you thought I couldn’t love you?”

“Cutting right to the heart of it, aren’t ya?” He laughs, tugging her up by her hand. “Aye, I doubted you – and you proved me wrong, as usual. If you’re mental enough to make it down to Finfolkaheem you may be mental enough.”

They’ve reached the top of the stairs. This high above the sea, the wind whips their hair back from their faces. He feels himself getting distracted by her proud flushed face.

“What did he mean when he said you bought the island? Why does that matter?”

He blinks, a little off balance by the sudden change in subject. “I brought island in human terms, and then I named it. Magically it means I have the right to keep anyone from entering it.”

“But you left an opening for me?” Her other hand comes up, landing on his shoulder. “I love you too, you stupid man.”

He’s still tempted to duck and hide, but he lets her tug him down for a kiss. He breaks it before long though, unwilling to let her distract him at the top of the stairs. “Almost there.”

The path to the cottage is almost overgrown, testimony to how rarely he comes up here. But he really owes it to her, showing her the place he made for her.

The silence doesn’t last long, his own curiosity burning. “Where’d you get the selkie skin, that’s a new addition.”

“Oh! My step-mother is actually a selkie. She let me borrow it to find you.” She gives him a look. “She’s the one who figured out you weren’t human. I don’t think she knew you were a Finman, but she told me her suspicions. I didn’t come after you blindly.”

He pauses before the house. She doesn’t take her eyes off him, taking both of his hands in hers.

“What did you name your island?”

“Mm?” It takes him a moment to process her question, a little lost in her warm eyes. “Nepenthe.”

Belle thinks for a minute, he can practically hear her mind whirling and it brings a smile to his face. It comes so much easier and softer than he’s used to, and for a brief moment, he feels panic. But Belle’s soft sound of realization brought him back.

“Oh.”

“Sappy, pitiful name isn’t it?” He says dismissively, more than a bit self-conscious.

Her brow furrows sympathetically as he smiles down at her, the embarrassment slowly fading in the warmth of her affection..He can’t help the fond look that he knows is taking over his face. He read the expression in her eyes. “I didn’t want to forget though.”

“You just wanted to stop hurting.”

He hums in response, unable to form the words around the lump in his throat. This time he is the one who initiates the kiss, letting go of her hands to pull her close.

“I think it’s finally working.”

  


  


Fin.

_Nepenthe_

_(n.) something that makes you forget grief or suffering; a potion of forgetfulness_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *to the tune of Paradise City*
> 
> TAKE ME DOWN TO THE FINFOLK CITY, WHERE THE SHELLS ARE GREEN AND THE MEN ARE PRETTY.


End file.
